At this moment, everybody knows what happened to Notre Dame de Paris. The Paris cathedral burned for 12 hours. American television followed each image for more than five hours. All the people around the world consider this event a tragedy, and it was one.

I was shocked and saddened. I watched French and American television. At the same time, I talked with my family and friends. I cried for some moments. It’s like a bad fiction. Notre Dame is very famous. If you’re Catholic or if you love art, you are interested in this monument. But not only that; this is a very popular symbol of France. People want to see the gargoyles or only take a picture. This is a marvel of architecture and a heritage of humanity.

However, for Parisians it is more than that: This is the heart of our city. Maybe you can live on the other side of the city, maybe you have another religion, but you still know she is there, for you, for our eyes. Shining on sunny days, with beautiful lights every night with her reflection on her river, sometimes invisible with the fog. Occasionally, especially in the night when the people have gone, she looks bigger, and sometimes I can feel time stop. I feel I have gone back many centuries. When friends visit us, they feel the need to go to see her.

I feel so close to you, Notre Dame, that I will address you directly now, as “you.” For me, it was always a pleasure to go inside, to pray or only to admire you. Each year, it became more difficult to see you because of the crowd of tourists and our complicated lives. But I always enjoyed your image, and when I walked near the river, I stopped every time to appreciate you. To take a picture. To see you for a few minutes. I always wanted to take thousands of pictures of you, but I didn’t because I thought you would still be here always, and I would be gone one day, but today I know this will not be possible. I couldn’t imagine that the last images I have of you are the fire that burns you. I can’t believe the next time I go to Paris, I will see only your skeleton, and I will not hear the bells. I read the newspapers and see the images after the fire, and I know you’re alive. They talked about rebuilding you. I suppose it will be possible, but something is gone; you’ll never be the same. I suppose that I was lucky, and I need to be grateful for the opportunity to have appreciated you for a long time.

I am very sad about this event, but I am also angry. How is it possible to lack the capacity to protect you? You lived for many centuries, you never knew fire before, and wars didn’t touch you. Besides, I worry about all this money donated for your renovation only a few days after the accident, especially in this moment when many people in France sleep in the streets and the government has eliminated social assistance. Also, I hate for people to say the world only cries for Paris and never thinks about Syria or Yemen or other places on the planet. I am sure French people don’t want and don’t need these tears. I think all people can feel the sadness of their own tragedy and don’t need one accident like this to discover the distress of the world.

Maybe your tragedy can be the opportunity to think about ourselves, about important things, and ponder the idea of eternity and generosity.

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Jackie Leduc writes, “I grew up in Mexico City and moved to Paris for 16 years, working as an urban planner in housing and social development. I have lived in New York City with my husband since 2017, and I volunteer to improve conditions. Passionate about travel, food, and cultures, I enjoy discovering each part of the city as a new country with new adventures. Through my class, I have reconnected with my love of writing.” Jackie Leduc studies in the Adult Literacy Program at University Settlement.